Every single couple that comes to me has a Pinterest board. Some of them are incredibly organized with labeled sections and specific categories. Some of them are just like, a vibe explosion of saved images from the last three years with no real throughline. Both are completely fine and both tell me something useful.
But here’s the thing about Pinterest. It shows me what you’re visually drawn to. It does not always show me who you are. And those two things are not always the same.
The couples I remember most, the projects I’m still thinking about years later, those came from going past the board. Past the trend. Past the “I want something like this but not exactly this” conversation. Into the actual person sitting across from me on a Zoom call who maybe doesn’t even know yet what they really want.
That’s where the good stuff lives. And getting there is a whole process.
It starts with listening for the repeated stuff
When we first talk I’m not immediately firing off questions about flower varieties or color palettes. I’m listening. Specifically I’m listening for the words and phrases that keep coming back.
If someone says “sculptural” three times in fifteen minutes that’s a cue. If they keep coming back to the word “wild” or “organic” or “like it just happened naturally” that’s a cue. If they’re describing their venue and the thing they keep mentioning is the stonework or the way light comes through the windows or the fact that there are actual gardens on the property, that’s all information. That’s all design direction even if they don’t realize they’re giving it to me yet.
Most people don’t speak fluent florals and they’re not supposed to. That’s literally what I’m here for. My job in that first conversation is to translate what they’re feeling into something I can actually build.
It comes down to the gut checks
Once I have a sense of the vibe I’ll start asking more pointed questions. I’ll pull up their Pinterest and instead of looking at the whole board I’ll ask them to point me to their top three. Then I ask what specifically they’re drawn to about each one.
Because sometimes a bride saves a photo because she loves the shape of the bouquet but couldn’t care less about the flowers in it. Sometimes it’s purely about the color. Sometimes it’s the stems, the way they’re flowing, the looseness of it, the fact that it doesn’t look perfectly arranged. Getting into the WHY behind the saves is where you start finding the real design language.
If someone genuinely doesn’t know what they want (which happens more than you’d think), I start asking about things that have nothing to do with flowers. What kind of art are you into? What do you love about your venue’s building or scenery specifically? Are you drawn to spaces that feel open and airy with a lot of breathing room or do you like spaces that feel layered and full?
Someone who chose their venue because of all the windows and the open courtyard is a different design than someone who chose a venue because of the intricate stonework and the fountain and the candlelit corridors. The venue choice tells me so much about who someone is aesthetically even when they can’t find the words themselves.
And then I send a mood board and I ask them to do a gut check. Not to analyze it or think about whether it makes sense on paper. Just to sit with it and notice what their body does.
I operate on the mantra “if it’s not a F**K yes it’s a F**K no.” In design decisions, in business decisions, in life decisions, it’s all encompassing. So I want them to feel that. Does it light something up or does it feel like a polite maybe. Because a polite maybe means we keep going.
What happens when it lands
The best reactions I get back from a mood board are not the thoughtful well-considered responses. They’re the ones where someone clearly could not help themselves.
The “OH MY. Yes. That’s it.” texts. The voice memos where they’re clearly walking around their house losing their mind a little bit. The Instagram stories where they’re gushing about their floral vision before I’ve picked up a single stem or confirmed a single variety.
Those people. Those are my people. The ones who love florals and feel them and are genuinely excited about what we’re building together. When I get that reaction I know that whatever I end up creating within those parameters is going to land exactly the way it’s supposed to. There’s trust there. There’s creative freedom there. And that’s when the work gets really good.
It makes me feel curious more than anything, sending a mood board. Like “hey, did this land for you? Open to hearing what’s not right just as much as what is.” Because the adjustments are part of the process and sometimes the thing someone pushes back on leads to an even better direction than where I started.
The clients who come in with a checklist
Not everyone comes in vibing. Some people come in with a list.
They need the bridesmaid bouquets, the boutonnieres, flowers on every cocktail table, specific things at specific zones. The flowers are a box to check rather than a design element they’re genuinely excited about. And I can usually tell within the first few minutes of a conversation which situation I’m in.
That doesn’t change how I show up. I’m still going to ask my questions and bring my full self to the consultation. But internally I clock it. This one is going to take a little more convincing when I suggest redirecting budget toward something more impactful. This one might push back on the idea of skipping the boutonnieres. This one is operating from traditional expectations or family pressure or just a general sense of “this is what weddings have.”
And that’s okay. I get it. Weddings come with a lot of external noise about what you’re supposed to do. So I try to be an advocate without being pushy. I’ll make my suggestions, explain my thinking, and then genuinely respect where they land. My job is to give people the information and perspective they don’t have yet, not to override what they actually want.
But the clients I do my best work with are the ones who come in curious. Open. Excited about the possibility of something they haven’t seen yet. Those conversations feel completely different and they produce completely different results.
When venue and personality are having a conversation
One more thing worth saying because it absolutely affects every design decision I make.
The venue is always part of the picture. Not just as a backdrop but as a personality. A garden style venue that’s all lush greenery and blooming hedges is already telling a design story before I add a single flower. A venue with incredible architectural stonework and a lit up courtyard is telling a completely different one. And some venues are these unexpected blank slates where the contrast between the space and the florals is actually the whole point.
The Monroe Street Abbey is a good example. Super architectural, really unique structure. And some of the most vibrant colorful designs I’ve done there have been stunning because the contrast worked. The juxtaposition, I hate that word but it fits, between the bones of the space and the energy of the florals created something neither one could do alone.
So when I’m listening to a couple talk about their venue, especially the specific things they love about it, I’m filing all of that away. The venue is part of who they are too. The fact that they chose it says something. And a design that’s working with the space it lives in will always feel more intentional than one that just got placed there.
That’s what I’m going for every time. Not florals at a wedding. Florals that belong to that wedding, that couple, that space, that day.
Nothing copied. Nothing repeated. Completely theirs.
If you want to figure out what your florals actually want to be, that’s exactly the kind of conversation I love having. Let’s talk.
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